Concern
by trashysexsonnet
Summary: Response to an Unbound Improv Challenge. A young brunette is dead. Sara is late. Grissom is concerned.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Concern

**Summary:** A young brunette is dead, Sara is late and Grissom is concerned.

**Notes:** This is my first ever Unbound Challenge response and my second ever CSI fanfiction. I must also admit that I have only been watching this show for about 2 or 3 months, and I know absolutely nothing about forensics.Any comments, suggestions or criticism will be eagerly pounced upon and appreciated to pieces. 

**Disclaimer:** I have absolutely nothing to do with CSI, CBS or William Peterson. For now.

**-----**

"The blood spatter is inconsistent…" Catherine Willows held her flashlight up to the wall and frowned quizzically. A few feet away, Gil Grissom lowered his camera and looked up from his crouch over the victim of the hour, a young brunette woman with three gunshot wounds in her head. She was an apparent target of a burglary turned violent; her television, stereo and computer had been removed, along with her wallet and most of the jewelry from her bedroom.

"Inconsistent with what?" He stepped over the body to examine the blood in question.

"You see these spatters over there?" Catherine gestured with the beam of her flashlight. "They move from left to right, which is consistent with the gunshots. But this first part, here…"

"Right to left." Grissom tapped his fingers against his chin. The two stood in contemplative silence and stared at the wall.

"Maybe she fought back."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "You think this is the suspect's blood?"

"Could be. Maybe she hit him with something."

"I didn't find anything nearby." Grissom turned and swept his gaze over the area surrounding the body.

"Did you check her knuckles? Maybe she was punching."

"Hard enough to draw blood? She isn't very big." He knelt next to the body and carefully lifted one of her limp wrists into his gloved hand.

"So? She was fighting for her life. It probably got pretty intense. Besides, Gil, size isn't always an indication of strength. Just look at Sara."

It was a passing comment, but Grissom looked up sharply. This victim reminded him enough of Sara as it was. She was young and lived alone, and judging from the stack of rented DVDs and the kitchen full of take out cartons, she didn't get out much. The neighbor who called 911 after hearing gunshots didn't even know her name, despite having lived next to her for nearly a year. Her landlord had been unable to provide a list of family or friends in the area. If it hadn't been for the shots, she probably would have been left to rot for days.

Catherine sighed. "Well, I'm going to see if I can get these spatters sorted out before the sun rises."

Grissom nodded and turned his concentration back to the victim's knuckles, which had indeed darkened with telltale bruising. He retrieved his camera and resumed snapping pictures, pausing for a moment to stare at her bloodied face through the lens.

-----

Grissom sat at his desk, staring at the clock on the wall and tapping a pen anxiously against his mug of coffee. Sara was late. If it were anyone else, he probably wouldn't have even noticed, but Sara was never late. In fact, she was almost always early. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed her number. A few seconds later the high pitched jingle of her ring tone drifted in from the hall. Grissom frowned and stood up from his desk just as Sara walked in, holding up her ringing phone with a weak smile. He snapped his phone shut and studied her carefully. She looked exhausted.

"Sorry. I overslept."

"Really?" He looked at her cautiously and returned to his seat. Well, at least she'd been sleeping.

Sara raised an eyebrow. "What else do you think would I'd be doing?"

"No, I didn't mean…it's just that you've never been late before. I was worried."

Sara blinked. "It was only half an hour."

"Like I said. You're never late." He smiled hesitantly and was relieved when she conceded his point with a quirk of her lips.

"Yeah, well, it won't happen again."

He had just opened his mouth to ask how she was when Catherine breezed into the office, carrying a stack of files.

"Got an ID on our vic from last night. Sarah Dawson, age 26." Both she and Grissom glanced quickly at Sara, apparently thinking the same thing. Catherine cleared her throat and handed him a file. "She was a graduate student. Library sciences. Worked part time at a local community college. I'll give her boss a call, see if I can find out anything else about her."

Grissom nodded. "I should have her autopsy results soon. I'll give you a page." The blonde woman nodded and left the office. Sara was frowning at him.

"What was that about?"

"What?"

"That look you and Catherine gave me. Was it because of the name? Because there are a lot of women in Vegas named Sarah."

Grissom sighed and began massaging his temples. "I know that. She just… looked a little like you." This case was bothering him more than he liked. He had already dealt with a Sara look-alike once, and that had been painful enough.

"Are you okay?"

He looked at Sara through his fingers. "Funny, I was going to ask you the same question."

"You just look tired," she answered, sidestepping his comment. "You guys were at that scene for a long time. Catherine said something about inconsistent blood spatters?"

"Yeah, apparently she fought back and managed to get some of the suspect's blood on the wall. It took hours to sort out."

"Bet Catherine enjoyed that." Sara smirked. "She loves a good blood puzzle."

Grissom returned her smile as she stretched her arms over her head and yawned.

"I'm going to get some coffee and get started processing that hit and run from last night."

"Get Nick to help you. He could probably use something to do." He didn't like the idea of her shut up in the dark lab by herself, processing bloody clothing all night.

"All right." She flashed him a quick smile and shut the door behind her. Grissom glanced around his desk, located the remote control for his stereo and started up _Fidelio_. There was nothing like Beethoven for a stack of paperwork. Half an hour later, he threw down his pen in frustration as the bloodied face of Sarah Dawson appeared in his mind's eye once more. He didn't want to be stuck in his office all night, slaving away for the bureaucrats. He wanted to be solving this case. _Her clothes should be in Trace by now_, he thought, shutting off the stereo. He tossed the remote onto the table as he stood up.


	2. Chapter 2: Empathy

"Are you planning to sit and brood all day?"

Gil Grissom lifted his eyebrows over his glasses and stared at Catherine Willows, who was standing in the doorframe of his office, arms crossed over her chest. "Am I brooding?"

"Yes, Gil, you are. You've been sitting here staring at the same report since shift started, and that was two hours ago." She closed the door and helped herself to the chair in front of his desk. "What's up?"

Grissom took off his glasses and sighed. "This case. The librarian." He hesitated. "Sarah Dawson."

"I know which case you meant," Catherine said patiently. "Go on."

"It doesn't make sense."

"What about it doesn't make sense? It was a burglary. It looks like she walked into the middle of it. Wrong place at the wrong time."

Grissom's forehead furrowed sadly. "She was at home, Catherine."

"Well, home happened to be the wrong place at that time." Grissom was silent. "All right, go on," she said slowly.

"What I don't understand…is that nobody called it in until after the gun was fired. We've established that there was a struggle. She hit him hard enough to spray his blood. It got pretty violent, and I'm going to guess noisy. How could no one have heard that? Those walls are paper thin."

"They probably didn't realize how serious it was until the gun was fired. Or maybe they thought it was her television."

Grissom pressed his lips together and shook his head wordlessly. Catherine watched him with a concerned frown as he stood up and reached for his jacket.

"Where are you going?" she inquired warily.

"Back to the scene."

"Again? There's nothing there!"

"I have to check. There might be something we overlooked." He shrugged into his jacket and patted his pockets for his keys. Catherine rolled her eyes and stood up to face him.

"No, there isn't! We went over that apartment with a fine tooth comb. We don't have the evidence this time. Aren't you always saying that we have to follow the evidence? Even if it doesn't lead us where we want to go?"

"I am not leading the evidence," he said heatedly. "I just need to make sure we're not missing anything."

"For God's sake, Gil, what's gotten into you? You're acting like Sara."

He stopped cold and stared at her. "Excuse me?"

"You're acting like Sara," Catherine repeated. "You're empathizing. Looking for things that aren't there." She tilted her head to the side and studied him carefully. "Is that what this is about? Because I've got to tell you, Gil, there are a lot of women in Vegas named Sarah."

Grissom glared at his colleague. "I'm well aware of that! This has nothing to do with her."

"Well, what is it then? Because you're getting on my nerves."

"I just don't like an unsolved case. That's all."

"Bullshit. We have hundreds of unsolved cases. You want to know what I think?" He didn't, but that wasn't going to stop her. "Her name was Sarah. She had dark hair and she was such a loner that even her neighbors didn't know who she was until she was killed. Any of this sound familiar to you?" Her tirade was unceremoniously interrupted by a sharp knock, followed by Sara Sidle, who stepped into the office with a printout in her hand.

"Hey. Greg said you'd want to see this." She hesitated at the door. It didn't take a criminalist to sense that something was wrong. "Sorry, should I come back…?"

"No," Grissom snapped, sharper than intended. Sara held out the printout hesitantly.

"DNA results, from the blood spatters. You were right, there were two blood types. The inconsistent spatter is male." She glanced sideways at Catherine, who was clearly pissed off about something.

Grissom glanced dismissively at the results. "Fine. But we still don't have a suspect."

"Right," Sara said carefully. "Well, let me know if I can do anything to help."

Catherine waited until Sara had shut the door behind her. "All right, this has gone on long enough. You need to talk to her, Gil. I'm serious. This isn't the first time that something like this has happened," she added meaningfully. Grissom clenched his jaw and looked stubbornly away from her. He was beginning to wish he had assigned this case to someone else.

"It's not that simple, Catherine. I wouldn't even know where to begin..."

"Well figure it out! You're a grown man, Gil, you should be able to figure out some way to communicate that you're worried about her!"

_If only it were that simple. _ What he felt for Sara went farther than concern, but what good would it do to admit it? Nothing would change."Do you really think she'd want to hear that?"

Catherine observed her former supervisor for a long moment. "You might be surprised." Her voice had softened significantly. Without another word, she turned on her heel and left him alone in his office, staring gloomily into a jar of preserved fetal pig.

-----

"So, have you thought about what I said yesterday?"

Grissom looked up from his desk with a wince. It had been nearly 24 hours since his argument with Catherine, and he had rather stupidly hoped that she might have forgotten it by now.

"Yes…" he said hesitantly, removing his glasses.

"And?" Catherine raised a challenging eyebrow.

"And…you're right. I need to talk to her."

Her eyebrow rose further. "I know. Glad to see you've come around."

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face and just as quickly faded. "But… it's not going to be easy."

"Of course not. You're the ultimate scientist, Gil. We all know you and your emotions mix about as well as oil and water."

Grissom frowned. "That's not fair. I know I don't have the best track record, but Entomologists have feelings just like everyone else."

Catherine smirked. "Well, prove it. For all we know, you may be the one exception to that rule."


End file.
